


When We Are Through

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jim, Bruises, Comfort, M/M, Pon Farr, Rough Sex, Sex, Sleep, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and Jim (somewhat, he's more or less passed out at this point) reflect on Spock's recent Pon Farr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Are Through

**Author's Note:**

> This is, I think, the first fic I wrote for this fandom back after the movie came out in 2009. 
> 
> If I've totally screwed something up, let me know and I'll give it a fix. Any mistakes are mine.
> 
> I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't be paying off my ridiculous amount of student loans.

Jim lay on his side, dead to the world from exhaustion. Spock could tell this from their link as mates – Jim was under so far it was as though he were unconscious.

With Jim’s back to him, and with the low light spilling from the bathroom, Spock could easily see the bruises on his mate. Starting from Jim’s golden-haired head, he let his eyes trail down to his broad, impossibly sun-kissed shoulders. The most eye-catching of the ones littered across the expanse of skin was a quarter-sized, deep purple-blue _hickey_ (as Jim would say with a sly grin, all while creating one on Spock’s pale skin) where his neck met his shoulder. Spock wasn’t sure if that was from the third go-round or the sixth. Or maybe due to repetitive sucking _every_ go-round.

_He grabbed for the headboard, fingers seeking desperately for something to hold onto. He howled as Spock latched onto the juncture of neck and shoulder, his hips never stilling, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Jim’s hips, holding him down. From the keening noise Jim was making and the way he pushed back given the little wiggle room he still had, his mate was enjoying this as much as he was._

_Jim eventually gave up trying to find something to anchor himself and fished the sheet beneath him, arching up into Spock and trusting the Vulcan no to ran his head into the wall into the middle of their passion._

_If Jim had had a moment for coherent thought, he would have substituted passion with_ pon farr _, then again with, ‘oh, fuck’ and then nothing. He was a little too busy elsewhere to really hang onto any other thought other than, ‘hell yesyesyes there.’_

Spock turned his attention, continuing down Jim’s back to watching his spine as he breathed.

_Jim lay trembling in their bed, chest heaving, nipples tight and sore from where his mate, his Vulcan, had spent the last hour (twenty minutes, really, but how was Jim supposed to know the difference in his current state?) playing with them. Technically_ he _was recovering, but Spock had two fingers in him, ready to go again. Jim’s chest heaved. He was going to die, killed by his lifemate._

_Death by sex, though, sounded kind of cool. And heightened even further when Spock’s wandering free hand found the meld points. Jim’s cock made a valiant twitch in an attempt to join the state of the rest of the man it was attached to._

Now Jim’s breathing was deep and even, and Spock’s eyes continued to the dip in his captain’s back before molding into the curve of his ass. On Jim’s hips were distinct bruises – specific enough to Spock’s hands that should he touch his mate, they would fit perfectly. They were distorted enough, overlapping, and any observer would realize that the younger man had been gripped just as hard from the front as from the back, and for just as long. There were finger-spots on Jim’s thighs and the hole that Spock had been buried in for what felt like days was red and swollen-looking, like it had been lovingly abused for hours. Which, Spock logically concluded, it had been. From the moment that Spock had told his captain that he was entering _pon farr_ and Jim had taken them both off duty for the next five days, Spock had been on Jim’s ass (literally) like lube on Scotty’s beloved engines. Only with slightly less lube, much more friction, and more personal satiation. And it had started from the moment Jim had walked in the door to their shared quarters.

_”Spock?” Jim called softly in the semi-darkened room. He’d had some things to take care of, after Spock had told him, and was only about half an hour behind the Vulcan in getting to their quarters. Probably not enough time for Spock’s blood to start boiling._

_He moved slowly into the room, not hearing a sound._

_Which was why he was standing one moment and pressed against the very same door he’d just come in the next, Spock’s warm hands holding him up and kneading his ass the next. Jim did the only thing he could with his legs, which were to wrap them around Spock’s waist and hung on as his mouth was, for lack of a better word, ravished thoroughly._

_“You,” Spock murmured against the skin of Jim’s neck, “are,” he worked his way up toward his captain’s mouth, “late.”_

_Jim ran his hands through the hairs at the back of Spock’s neck, arching his back and pressing his almost instant hard-on into the bottom of lifemate’s abdomen. “Not late,” he grunted, letting Spock anchor him against the wall so he could pull off his shirts. “You started without me.” He could have sworn the words, “Did no such thing,” were pressed against his collarbone._

_Spock set Jim on his feet long enough for the two of them to strip, and then Jim’s back was against the wall again, and the feeling of skin on skin was amazing. His face turned pink from shyness when Spock’s wandering hand found the slick entrance to his hole. Truthfully, the paperwork had only taken about ten minutes and he’d had a vague idea of how things were going to go once he actually entered the room._

_Jim gave a half-hearted shrug and a “Yeah, I’m ready,” smirk, only slightly expecting it when Spock grabbed him hard enough to leave bruises and lifted, tilting his mate’s hips as Jim wrapped his legs around him once more and entered the waiting hole in one smooth stroke. Jim shouted, Spock sucked a hickey into existence on his collarbone, and knew that he was going to be fucked into oblivion against a wall for their opening match of_ pon farr _. Which, strangely, didn’t bother him._

Spock left his post by the doorway and moved around to the other side of the bed, looking down at Jim’s front. The younger man’s arms were a little haphazard, and the left one was probably going to be “asleep” when he woke up, but he was peaceful. Relaxed, despite the numerous hickeys and other love marks that dotted his chest. As the Vulcan lowered himself carefully to the bed and stretched out beside his mate, he ghosted his hand down Jim’s ribcage and hip, letting his eyes follow it to where his cock lay soft against his thigh. There had been times that Jim hadn’t been given sufficient recovery time, that even the slightest touch to the organ had made him wince a little. The only thing he’d done was whisper into Spock’s ears; murmurs of love, of faith, and, on occasion, downright dirty things that had caused Spock to lose a bit of his self-control and delve into what Jim would affectionately call, “bunny fucking with a vengeance.”

Spock felt the love he had for his mate swell. 

Jim shivered, blinking his eyes open as he curled toward Spock’s warmth. 

“You appeared to be sleeping,” Spock murmured. 

“Was cold,” Jim muttered, sliding loose-limbed and pliant across the space between them and curl against the Vulcan’s chest. Spock slid an arm under Jim’s head, slipping his leg between the younger man’s. Jim winced when the muscled thigh nudged sensitive places, his free hand looking for Spock’s. With a sleepy sort of fumbling ease, he brushed his fingers over that of his Vulcan’s a sweet, sweet kiss that conveyed nothing but love and contentment. Spock responded in kind, and pressed a kiss to Jim’s forehead. 

“You should rest, _t’hyl’a_ ,” he said softly, pulling Jim closer while mindful of the colors that now dotted the human. 

Jim nuzzled further into the Vulcan’s warmth, flinging an arm over the trim waist. “Sp’ck?”

“Yes?”

“Love you, but no sex f’r at least a week,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the pale collarbone only inches from him.

The Vulcan’s expression softened only a little, his mouth quirking upward at the corners. “Yes, Jim.” He waited.

“Well…maybe not a week.”

Spock tightened his arms around his mate, rubbing circles in the dip in Jim’s back. “Go to sleep, Jim.” Silence reigned in the cabin and he joined Jim in slumber. They’d need the rest in order to resume some sort of normal function the next time they were due on shift. 

That, and deal with the kitten McCoy was sure to have at the bruises on his best friend.


End file.
